Eternity
by Love the Brightest Star
Summary: "I've loved you as mortal, as vampire, as pure spirit, as spiritual child—and now as human again." — Loving Elena was probably the most unique experience Stefan has ever had in his five hundred years long life. But he knows that no matter how or what she is, his love for her will never diminish, for all eternity.
1. First Time

**Hi all! I'm back with my second TVD fanfiction. As the summary says, this collection will show Stefan's love for Elena in the various forms she has been through.**

 **I would have liked to write the first chapter about the first time Stefan noticed Elena, but L.J. Smith has already written it from his point of view, so I chose this incident — after Stefan saves Elena from Tyler. It was the first time Stefan showed his love for her anyway.**

 **So read on! And please review. :)**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters. All the dialogue you recognised, and the plot, belong to L.J. Smith as well.**

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 ** _"And then, helplessly, he bent his head down to her lips."_** _— The Awakening_

Stefan could feel his whole body tense as he heard the bathroom door open. All of his muscles seized up as his sharp ears caught her near-silent footsteps, and her soft, subtle perfume wafted tantalizingly to his nose, as heady as old Black Magic wine to his inhuman senses. It took him all his self-control to not turn to her and let his eyes feast on her beauty.

Knowing that she must be in need of something to cover herself, given the way that brute Tyler had manhandled her, he gestured towards the velvet cloak he had put out on the back of the chair while she had been washing herself.

"You might want to put that on over your dress."

 _Don't look. Keep control._

He could not afford to make any mistakes tonight, now that she was alone with him, not after the strange vertigo he had suffered tonight. He did not know what was happening to him, and he couldn't help be afraid of himself.

He heard her put on the cloak, the soft rustle of the velvet against her skin reaching his ears. Then he heard her coming towards him. He tensed even more.

She was so close to him now, Stefan's canines tingled involuntarily. She stared at his mahogany dresser, inspecting the little tokens he had collected all his five hundred years old life. He wondered vaguely if she was genuinely interested in them, or if she was only trying to bait him into reacting by handling his things.

"What's this?"

He looked at her, distracted out of his musings.

"A gold florin. A Florentine coin," he said automatically. A last token of his home before he had left.

"And what's this?"

Stefan would have smiled at the curiosity in her voice had he not been so strung up. How he would have loved to sit with her and talk about these things, to tell the story behind each— _Stop,_ he told himself forcefully. _Stop thinking that way, right now._

He barely managed to string together the answer, caught up in the storm going within him. "A German pendant watch. Late fifteenth century," he said distractedly. She should not be here. She must leave, before he did anything he regretted, before he lost control...

"Elena—" he began.

She had reached for his iron coffer.

"What about this?" she asked. "Does it open?"

Stefan felt a white-hot flash of panic, and then, using his fast reflexes, he had jumped towards it, his hand protectively placed over the lid.

"No." She couldn't see it; it would shatter all the walls he had so carefully built around himself. He couldn't let her see that he cared. The apricot ribbon that he had taken home with him on the second day of school... He could not let her see that he cared so much about her, already.

"That's private," he said, hoping that the emphasis would stall her, and heard the strain in his own voice. This wasn't what he wanted, to keep secrets from her, to keep _himself_ from her, but this was what was good for her.

He was very careful only to touch the iron surface of the coffer, carefully avoiding her delicate fingers. His hand itched to reach hers, to brush her rose-tinted skin with his thumb... even his self-control was hardly enough now.

She had noticed his gesture. He felt the hurt, the anger in her before the words came.

"Careful," she said harshly. "Don't touch me, or you might get a disease."

Squeezing his eyes shut as her words slashed through like a whiplash, he turned away towards the window.

He could see her reflection on the slightly misted glass. He knew that she knew he was watching; she walked to the middle of the room with an air of self-consciousness, her pale hand clutching the dark cloak to her throat. Stefan watched her reflection in fascination, watched the regal air in which she held herself (just like a princess, he thought), her beautiful hair spilling onto her back, shining like old gold. Her agitation somehow accentuated the power and dignity in her character, showing him how different she was from Katherine, even though they were externally alike enough to be twins.

And then she looked up at the trapdoor in the ceiling. Through the reflection, Stefan saw the dark velvet slip, exposing her pale white throat as she craned her neck upwards. He gasped. Fine blue veins were discernible against the porcelain skin, pumping her blood, her rich red blood...

It happened so fast that he didn't even register it. In one fluid movement, he had turned around, and was staring at her, at her exposed throat, the flow of blood in which was an irresistible pull for him. He felt his canines lengthening, saliva filling his mouth. Elena was looking at him with a confused expression, but he was past caring...

 _Elena_. That name brought him to his senses. He was thinking of hurting _Elena_. He was thinking of _bleeding her_. With a supreme effort, he brought himself back to control, feeling the walls snap back to place, shielding the passion, the desire.

"I think," he said, "that I had better get you home." He needed to get her away to safety, away from the danger that was himself. Fast. Before he lost it.

He had been trying to shield his probing senses, to stop himself from feeling her hurt and anger that only made him feel so very guilty, and had so far been rather successful in his attempt. So her next words came like a bolt from the blue.

"Why do you hate me?"

He stared at her. Did she is really think that he _hated_ her? Could he ever hate her? Could _anyone_ hate her?

At that moment, several reactions crossed his mind — he felt like telling her what he really thought of her, or to laugh at the sheer ridiculousness of her accusation, or maybe just disappear into the night, melt into the darkness, soaking in the guilt of having acted so terribly with her that she thought she hated him. Instead, he settled for the simplest answer.

"I don't hate you," he said, hearing the stunned quality of his own voice.

"You do," said Elena. "I know it's not… not good manners to say it, but I don't care. I know I should be grateful to you for saving me tonight, but I don't care about that, either. I didn't ask you to save me. I don't know why you were even in the graveyard in the first place. And I certainly don't understand why you did it, considering the way you feel about me."

Stefan could see how she had seen his actions. Of course, he had strictly ignored her, rejected her advances, but it had been for her own good. Oh, if only she could see how everything about her called to him, from her looks to her aura to that sweet honeysuckle drawl of her voice...

He simply shook his head.

"I don't hate you," he repeated softly. _I love you. From the time I first saw you._

But Elena's lapis eyes were full of hurt and suppressed anger, which was now spilling to the surface.

"From the very beginning, you've avoided me as if I were… were some kind of leper," she went on. Stefan flinched. "I tried to be friendly to you, and you threw it back in my face. Is that what a gentleman does when someone tries to welcome him?"

She was right, of course. His behavior had been inexcusable, even by the teachings of his tutor. But sometimes... you just had to act like that. For the better.

He tried to say something, to explain, at least at some level, why he had acted like that, but Elena swept on, her fury echoing through the silent room.

"You've snubbed me in public time after time; you've humiliated me at school. You wouldn't be speaking to me now if it hadn't been a matter of life or death. Is that what it takes to get a word out of you? Does someone have to nearly be murdered?" She paused for a breath, her cheeks flushed, he lips trembling. "And even now," she continued bitterly, "you don't want me to get anywhere near you. What's the matter with you, Stefan Salvatore, that you have to live this way? That you have to build walls against other people to keep them out? That you can't trust anyone? What's wrong with you?"

This time, he didn't try to speak. What could he say? _Everything is wrong with me. I am a creature of darkness. I am a monster._

"And what's wrong with me," Elena went on, more quietly, filling the momentary silence, "that you can't even look at me, but you can let Caroline Forbes fall all over you? I have a right to know that, at least. I won't ever bother you again, I won't even talk to you at school, but I want to know the truth before I go. Why do you hate me so much, Stefan?"

She couldn't see, could she, that he was only with that Forbes girl because he didn't care a penny about her, and that looking at Elena each day, feeling her aura, brought an onslaught of terrible memories, increasing the burden of guilt he had carried for half a millennium by a hundred times?

Bleakly, he looked at her. She deserved the truth, at least some of it.

"Yes," he said, taking care to steady his voice, "I think you do have a right to know. Elena." He looked at her then, meeting her eyes directly. "I don't hate you," he continued, feeling the truth in his words. "I've never hated you. But you… remind me of someone." _Katherine. Oh, Katherine!_

Her eyes widened; she hadn't expected this.

"I remind you of someone else you know?"

"Of someone I knew," he said quietly. Five hundred years ago. He saw Katherine's sweet face as he spoke, her big blue eyes and innocent smile, and the love with which she used to look at him.

"But," he added slowly, speaking spontaneously now, as the observation dawned upon him. "You're not like her, really. She looked like you, but she was fragile, delicate. Vulnerable. Inside as well as out."

"And I'm not." It was a statement more than a query. She knew she was not frail.

He almost laughed, but there was no humor in the sound; the pain was too much. How had he not seen the differences straight away? Yes, Katherine was like a beautiful porcelain doll. And as much as Elena looked like her, there was a fire in her. Katherine would never have stood before him and argued like this. Elena was, and the varied behavior was not due to the difference in the time period alone.

"No. You're a fighter. You are… yourself." She was a unique breed, exotic and irresistible.

"You were very close to her?"

 _More than anyone else. Perhaps._ The image of sleek dark hair and midnight eyes flickered across his mind, but he forcefully pushed it away."Yes."

"What happened?"

Ye Gods, did she have to ask that? The pain thundered over him with the intensity for an explosion, the regret, the guilt. And that broke the dam of memories. Katherine's face, lips turned down in dismay, tears clinging to her lashes, saying that she chose them both, Damon and him... the lemon tree, the pile of ashes underneath... the fight, stabbing Damon and getting killed in return... and the reawakening...

The flood of dark thoughts encompassed him for so long that he struggled to speak, rendered mute. But at last he managed, "She died."

Elena let out a long breath. "That must have hurt terribly," she said softly, "I'm sorry."

But Stefan barely heard her. He had been sucked into a vortex of pain and misery, as memory after memory flicked through before his eyes — the failed love, the guilt, the anger, hatred, the regret, five centuries of lonely wanderings, cut off from humanity, as a monster, a hunter.

"Stefan," Elena whispered. He heard her voice through a haze of grey noise — his own pain that cut him off from this world. Somehow she had moved close to him. He felt her lay a hand on his arm. "Stefan, I know how it can hurt—" she began.

"You can't know," he exploded, all his grief and guilt turning into a white blaze of fury. He was sick of this, the pity and consolations. _Nobody_ could know how it felt, to bear it all for half a millennium, your own misery killing you slowly, with each painful memory as fresh as yesterday...

He looked down at her hand, and a string of feelings rushed through him. It reminded him of Katherine. Still dizzy with the whirlwind of emotions within him, he shook it off with all the roughness he could muster, trying to make it a final step for her to leave him (he could not let another tragedy happen by letting her close to him), and raised his own hand —

— and suddenly, he was clasping her delicate, soft hand in his, their fingers intertwined. He stared at them in bewilderment. He had been keeping up his walls so well; how did he let this happen? But now that he could feel the warmth of her skin against his, he just couldn't let go.

Slowly, he looked up from their joined hands to Elena's face. Empathy swam in the lapis lazuli of her eyes, empathy, not pity, and love. Stefan stared, and all in a moment, he was lost.

"Elena—" he whispered. _I surrender. I am yours._

He could feel the anguish shattering all his barriers; the need to hold her, to be with her, to let her comfort him, was stronger than anything else. It overwhelmed him. And he knew then, that he was too weak, that he was defeated. He couldn't fight any longer.

 _You were always too weak, brother,_ Damon's voice mocked him, but for this once, Stefan welcomed his weakness. His eyes caught up in Elena's entrancing eyes, he helplessly lowered his lips to hers.

Fireworks burst all around him as Stefan let himself drown in the sweet sensation of togetherness. For once after five hundred long years, Stefan Salvatore was not alone.


	2. Reawakened

**And we have the second chapter! Thank you to all those who read and put up such generous comments for the first chapter. Hope you like this one just as much. :)**

 **The italicized portions here are flashbacks.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Vampire Diaries. All the dialogue you recognize belong to L.J. Smith.**

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 _ **"As long as Elena walked the earth, he would never leave her. Even if she hated him, even if she hunted him. He would do anything he could to keep her safe."** — The Fury_

Stefan leaned against a tall willow, his head low, completely hidden by the shadow of the clump of trees from any prying eyes. Not that there was anyone to see him. The whole town was collected in the church, the white steeple of which Stefan could see from here, a bare five minutes' walk. For Elena's funeral. They didn't have the body, of course, but they were still holding a memorial service for her.

 _If only they knew how close she is to them_ , Stefan thought with an embittered smile. If only they knew that she lives, but no longer as the pure, loving human she had been, but as a hunter, a menace to them, like him.

He would have wanted to attend the service under other circumstances, had he not joined her at once by taking off his ring, but he couldn't be seen by the public. They surely suspected him to be a criminal. Besides, what was the use when you knew the truth? Elena was here, very much alive, if one called this undead state 'alive'. And she hated him.

Stefan toyed with the lapis ring on his finger. The gemstone only reminded him of Elena's eyes. His heart ached to find her, to reach out to her, but he stopped himself. S _he doesn't want to see you_ , a nasty voice mocked him, _She wants you dead. And she loves_ Damon.

He wished that his memories could be wiped away completely. He had thought that he could suffer no greater pain after Katherine's death. Then he had been proved wrong, by Elena's death. And now, this was worse, way worse than any of them. It seemed that fate was adamant on showing him how much misery he could be put through, laughing at him.

Having nothing better to do to break his solitude, Stefan kept staring at the ring on his finger. He knew that it was the lapis lazuli, but all Stefan could see was Elena's eyes, glittering with a murderous frenzy as she looked at him...

 _Stefan couldn't remember a time in the past when he had fought with this much fury, or with this sheer amount of Power. He felt his body throb with it, with the life force of all the blood he had drunk, as he lunged at Damon yet again, trying to inflict the worst injury. It was liberating in a strange way, to let go of all the reservations carefully built over half a millennium, to bare his fangs at his enemy in a bestial snarl. He was embracing his true nature. And yet he felt no joy in the way his fangs snapped close to Damon's throat, no satisfaction in seeing the bloodied gashes on Damon's face that his claws had made in his falcon form. Because all Stefan felt now was pain, pain and grief and mind-shattering hatred. He had never known that he could hold so much negativity together. But he would finish this soon. Finish Damon, and then he would go to Elena's side and join her, taking his ring off forever. Then everything will be over._

 _But he had underestimated Damon's strength. Even though Stefan had recently fed, Damon was no less strong. His aura pulsated, dark and menacing, as he bared his teeth at Stefan. And before Stefan had time to defend himself, Damon had rammed into him with the force of a boulder. Stefan heard something crack as his body made contact with the ground, and felt the throbbing pain. His left arm was broken._

 _But nothing was going to stop him now. Ignoring his arm, which now hung at an unnatural angle, he rose, and concentrating on his Power, slammed him into the trunk of an oak tree. Damon hissed in pain as his head hit the wood with a resounding crack._

 _"You will regret it," Stefan whispered, digging his fingers at his brother's neck. "You should have never touched Elena. I'll make you regret it."_

 _Damon's black eyes blazed with inhuman fury, and with a snarl, he pushed at Stefan's grip. Losing his balance, Stefan fell to the ground, Damon on top of him. They fought like wolves, fighting tooth and nail. There would be no mercy here. It was a match to kill._

 _Freeing one arm from Damon's grip, Stefan punched him right in the face. Damon fell with a howl, and Stefan quickly climbed on top of him. All his anger focused on those blackest of eyes, he gripped Damon's throat with deliberate slowness._

 _"And so it ends," he smiled a humorless smile at Damon's glaring face. "Goodbye, brother."_

 _And he tightened his choking grip around the marble-white throat._

 _Damon was having difficulty in breathing now. He struggled, but Stefan pinned him down more firmly. It would all be over in a few minutes, and then he would leave forever..._

 _Fingers pried off his grip on Damon's throat with unexpected strength._

 _Before Stefan could do anything, he had been wrenched away forcefully from his brother. He gasped in pain as the person bore down on his wounded arm, and losing his balance, tumbled to the icy, leaf-strewn floor. And then slender fingers were around his neck, slowly choking him from behind._

So Damon has found an accomplice _, he thought angrily. Whoever this person was, their attack had taken him by surprise, but now Stefan struck at the person with all the force he could muster, and clutching at their throat, dug his thumb hard against the flesh. His opponent hissed, and lunged for his hand. All on a moment, Stefan was in terrible pain, a pain which could only come from resisting a vampire's bite. Sure enough, sharp teeth dug into his hand. Vampire, then. Had Damon made a new one out of some innocent human, or was this someone lurking around? Fell's Church was located in a powerful intersection of several ley lines, after all._

 _Stefan jerked his shoulders, successfully breaking the hold of his opponent, and twisted in her grasp (for by now, he had realised that his enemy was female), flinging her down. Then in a second he was above her, snarling in fury, all his control gone. The person hissed at him with equal anger, and tried to scratch out his eyes with her nails, but Stefan, ready for the attack, knocked her hand away. It looked like he would have to kill this one first. Then he would finish off Damon. He snarled at her again, drawing back his sharp teeth. One strike, and done..._

 _But then something happened to him. Somehow, he managed to look past the face as a mere prey, and saw what his enemy actually looked like. And froze._

 _Golden hair, now tangled with leaves and slush. Skin like rose petals, now a shade paler. That rosebud mouth, sensual and innocent at the same time, now set in a snarl. But the eyes — those lapis lazuli eyes, they couldn't be found anywhere else. But it couldn't be happening...it was impossible..._

 _His eyes wide open in wonder, all his fury forgotten, he eased himself from her and helped her sit up. All the while, he was afraid he was dreaming, or just insane, and that she'd disappear any moment. But the fingers underneath his were soft and solid._

 _"Elena," he whispered, hearing his voice crack under the strain of so many emotions running through him. "Elena, it's you."_

 _But there was no flood of joy into the blue eyes, no smile lifting the lovely lips. Maybe she was in shock. And oh...how he had hurt her..._

 _She glanced at Damon, who was steadying himself, panting._

 _And then she lunged at him._

 _"Elena!" Stefan cried, his breath whooshing out of him as his back hit the ground. Whatever was wrong with her? Did she not recognize him? He tried to push her away with his good arm. "Elena, it's me, Stefan! Elena, look at me!"_

 _She was looking, but there was no trace of the old Elena, of the Elena he loved, in that face. She hissed venomously, and bared her teeth. Revealing long, pointed fangs._

Oh. _Comprehension dawned on him like a lightning strike. He had realised that his assailant was a vampire, and then he had found Elena. So it meant that she was, oh God, no..._

 _"No," he whispered. "Oh, no…" This could not be happening. His worst nightmare... And yet it explained her behavior completely, how she had returned after she had clearly been dead. But surely he hadn't exchanged enough blood with her to enable her to change..._

 _He reached out his hand to touch her. Whatever she was, he needed her. She snapped at it._

 _That concluded his judgment. She was gone completely. Instead, an irrational, blood craving monster had taken her place._

 _"Oh, Elena…" he whispered, feeling his heart break as he spoke._

 _He gave up all the fight he had in him. What was the use of fighting her, the one he loved? She might have changed, but there was no way he could hurt her, knowing that she was Elena._

 _She took immediate advantage of his vulnerability, diving for the bare skin of his throat. Reflexively, his arm shot out to defend himself, but then he forced himself to drop it. He would not, could not fight Elena. He had brought it upon himself, he had damned her. He would accept his punishment._

 _He let all resistance leave his body, forcing himself to lie still and passive under her attack. He averted his eyes from the golden hair tumbling over him as she worried at his throat, looking up at the clouded sky. No light up there, just haze and darkness, no light in the world, no Elena..._

 _He felt her hesitate then, and for a fraction of second, he felt a glimmer of hope, wondering if she had, by any chance, reverted back to her old self. No, of course not, he was being foolish. She was puzzled by his lack of resistance, he realised bitterly._

Finish it _, he spoke to her telepathically, his mental voice as weary as the rest of him. She could do it quickly, set him free..._

But she hadn't, had she? She wanted to, but Damon had stopped her. Perhaps that was his revenge. _"I ran out of mercy for you a century ago."_ His older brother had made that clear enough. Stefan gritted his teeth, wishing he could just go finish him off. But his newfound power had waned completely after he wiped Tyler's memories, and he did not have the slightest chance at winning now. Besides, Elena was loyal to Damon. She needed him.

 _"And who is that?" Damon pointed at him. Elena followed his pointing finger._

 _"Stefan," she said."Your brother."_

 _Her tone of indifference hurt more than her fangs had. Once Stefan been her whole world, and now, his only identity was_ Damon's brother.

 _"And who am I? Do you know who I am?"_

 _"Of course I do," Elena smiled up at Damon with such affection that made Stefan wince. "You're Damon, and I love you."_

 _..."You're Damon, and I love you."... "Because you love me. You do love me, don't you?" ... "Let's go away somewhere, just us."..._

It was perhaps this betrayal that had hurt him the most. After everything Elena had said, after all the promises she had made to him, she had turned to Damon. And even though Damon himself acknowledged that Elena was irrational and confused after her changing, there was no denying that she had shared blood with Damon. That had been the reason she had changed; together, their blood was enough to change her.

"Don't judge her before you know all the facts, Stefan." — That was what Matt had told him. But what more was left for him to know? Elena and Damon had shared blood — which was a symbol of love, of passion, for vampires. Elena might have been attracted to him; she had every right to. After all, Damon was always the one to get the girls. Could Stefan be as good as Matt? Could he love Elena and still let go of her, and be there for her unconditionally? The letting go part Stefan wasn't sure of, but he knew that he would always do whatever he could to protect Elena, even if she hated him. It was what kept him from embracing death.

The atmosphere of sadness was thick in the air, wafting from the church, dampening his already downtrodden mood. But from the same place, Stefan now recognised a familiar, yet unfamiliar aura. It was golden and bright, the same one which had drawn him in when he had come to Fell's Church, and yet it had a flickering wildness of a hunter in it. He had learned to recognize this change in his last encounter at the school; it was Elena. And she was very obviously distressed. Stefan could feel it, different from the rest of the mass of gloom in the church. She was evidently watching her memorial service.

For a few minutes, Stefan stood in a dilemma. Should he go to her? She did not love him anymore. She might attack him again. What claim did he have to comfort her anyway? But in the end, he succumbed to the same pull which had always compelled him to do whatever she wanted, and with quick, light steps, he made his way to the church.

Finding her wasn't difficult. She had taken the side door to the choir loft. Following her aura, he quietly made his way upstairs. She didn't notice him as he made his way up the stairs. Stefan could see her, her hair, now with a silvery sheen, tumbling down her back like a cascade as she tightly gripped the railing. For a second, Stefan stood still, wondering what to do now, and as he took a step forward, she heard him.

She whipped around, her eyes panicked, while simultaneously trying to slip into the shadows to escape detection. Stefan had no difficulty in seeing her, of course. In her state of panic, his desire to hold her, to soothe her was stronger than ever.

Recognition flashed on Elena's face, and immediately, her efforts to melt into the darkness ceased. For one long second, Stefan stared at his own reflection in the deep blue of her eyes — hair slightly tousled and eyes haunted — and then her lips trembled, and she launched herself into his arms.

"Oh, Stefan. Stefan…"

Stefan froze, keeping his hands, which had automatically wrapped themselves around her, lightly around her slender figure, so as to not give any indication of intimacy. What was this all about? Surely she had mistaken him for Damon in her confused state. In a moment, she would look at him again, and the murderous frenzy would come upon her again. But... but she had called him 'Stefan', not 'Damon'; she had said _his_ name...

" _Stefan_!" Her voice was tearful now, desperate, as she buried her face in his shoulder. Her familiar warmth was enveloping him, making him want to lose himself in her all over again. And it was then, in that moment of clarity, that he knew that he had found her again, _his_ Elena. She was back. The way she had uttered his name, the need in it, it said everything.

Elena pushed herself even closer to him, as if she could never be close enough. Stefan sensed a familiarity in her desperation; it reminded him of that evening in the boarding house, when he had been tense and afraid, after driving to the graveyard searching for some other Power, and she had come to see him... he remembered how he had helplessly, desperately embraced her before he could control himself, searching for comfort. It was the same here. Elena was falling apart, and she needed to be held.

"Elena. Elena, it's all right; I've got you." It was just like he had been transported back in time, the sensation of holding her as sweet as the first time, even the angst in his heart that was slowly being washed away adding to the sense of déjà vu. He tightened his hold around her, let their mingled warmth comfort both of them.

And so for several long minutes, he held her like he always loved to, so close to him but never close enough, stroking her hair and murmuring soothing things in her ear. Slowly, she regained control of herself. As she stared up at him, her deep blue eyes grave, Stefan forgot everything else the world.

"There's nothing to be done about it, is there?" she said very softly.

He didn't have any problem in understanding what she meant, nor did he pretend otherwise. He had thought precisely this after the acceptance of his vampire nature had set in.

"No," he said, equally soft. _But I'll help you live it through with everything I have. If you will have me._

His confirmation made her look away, and her eyes held a sad resignation, as if she had only just realised the full consequences of her burden and knew that there was no way back.

"I'm sorry for the way I acted toward you in the woods," she said after a while. "I don't know why I did those things. I remember doing them, but I can't remember why."

Stefan looked at her incredulously. She was apologizing? After everything he had done to her...

" _You're_ sorry?" His voice shook. "Elena, after all I've done to you, all that's happened to you because of _me…_ "

He had lost his trust in her, thinking that she had left him, and he was partially responsible for the condition she was in. There were so many crimes to his name, and it was she who was saying sorry... he couldn't finish, and he tried to let his gestures speak rather than his voice which couldn't speak enough, holding her tight even as she clung to him, both of their needs overwhelming. To Stefan, this was as much of a reawakening as Elena, the reawakening of a new love and trust for her, and he knew that he would hold on to her like this, forever and ever.

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 **How was it, then? Please review!**


	3. Reunion

**Hi all! So sorry for the update being so late... this chapter wasn't very easy to write, as there was so little of spirit Elena's presence with Stefan that L.J. Smith hadn't written from Stefan's point of view. Anyway, here it is, finally, hope you like it.**

 **The first part is something I made up myself, set during the night after Stefan saw Elena in Bonnie's vision. The rest** **is, of course, my tweaking of the canon.**

 **Thank you for everyone who reviewed; you are so sweet! I'm so grateful for all your comments.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Vampire Diaries. All dialogue you recognize belong to L.J. Smith.**

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" ** _He was just watching her. As if not only his breath, but his life was held, waiting."_** _— Dark Reunion_

The darkness in the room would have been stifling to any ordinary person. There was no light in the upper room of Mrs Flowers' boarding house, and the deadly silence of the moonless night complemented it. But Stefan was not an ordinary person, so he had no problem with it. If anything, he welcomed it as he sat on the floor in one corner, his knees drawn up to his chest. The darkness was velvet, promising sweet oblivion. But it never fulfilled the promise. Stefan felt more alert than ever, his green eyes staring at the open window with perfect clarity. The hush that had fallen outside somehow seemed uncanny, as if it, too was warning against the monster that prowled somewhere outside.

Stefan clenched his fists. Klaus, that villain! He was the one responsible for all the tragedies that had occurred here. He was in a way responsible for all the problems that Fell's Church had encountered; he had made Katherine what she was, and now he himself was haunting people's lives here. Stefan pursed his lips, the cogs of his brains turning as he thought of any possible plan to kill Klaus. He had told Bonnie earlier this day that he would leave to find a surviving victim of Klaus; but even his mind took to the plan with extreme reluctance. Even though there was no Elena to protect anymore, this was her village, and even more so, these were her friends that he was striving to protect. And not just her friends, they were _his_ friends too. Matt, Bonnie, Meredith, they had accepted him despite knowing what he was. With them, he had regained some semblance of a human life. He would do anything to protect them.

As he strained his thinking abilities in planning out a modus operandi, Stefan never realized when sleep crept up on him. It was strange, really; he could have sworn that he was perfectly alert and focused. But perhaps it was due to the excitement of the day — of the emotional onslaught of seeing Elena in Bonnie's vision, of the strain of using his powers against Klaus in the vampire's own realm of unreality — one moment Stefan was thinking hard on where exactly in Italy he could find Klaus' victim, and then, without his realizing it, his eyes had slipped shut.

When he opened his eyes, Stefan was blinking in bright, golden sunlight. The green-gold of the leaves shining in the brightness, and the soft, moist grass under him told him that he was in a clearing of sorts. The calm and the sweet silence of the place was infectious, and Stefan felt himself relaxing, basking in the tranquility with his other senses as he let his eyes close.

Soft fingers touched his cheekbones, and gently trailed down along his jaw. Some other time, Stefan would have jerked his eyes open, wary at once, but somehow, this touch had a loving familiarity; it told him to relax, and he obeyed unthinkingly. The fingers traced his face like caresses of the wind, they tousled his hair with incomparable tenderness. And then they went away.

Before Stefan could begin to feel the loss, lips as delicate as rose petals had taken their place. They trailed down his face, and downwards to his neck. Stefan sighed in wonderment as they worked on him, everything other than this sensation forgotten. And finally the lips touched his own, and everything just melted away.

 _Stefan..._

The voice spoke directly to his mind, and as the lips pulled away, Stefan let his eyes open.

And there she was, right before him, an ethereal glow surrounding her, almost like a halo. Stefan watched, stunned to silence, as Elena smiled a shy, mischievous little smile, and took his hand.

"Elena," he whispered, afraid to break the sacred silence.

"Stefan." His name left her lips with a slow, honey-like drawl, as if that was all she ever wanted to say.

"You are an angel," he murmured as he gently brought her hand to his lips. She was so solid, right there before him, with her sweet fragrance enveloping him...

"A spirit would be more accurate," she smiled ruefully. "Oh, Stefan..."

"Elena." He felt he could sit like this for ages, holding her close, feeling the sweetness of her name upon his lips as he said it again and again and again. He pulled her closer to him so that she was on his lap, and kissed her deeply. Stefan let himself enjoy her completely, thoroughly, like a thirsty man feeling the sensation of cold water on his lips. Her response contained equal fervor. Stefan could never get over the wonder of how strong and intense this bond of love that they wrought between them was, and yet how soft and sweet. Elena was like a drug to him, or an exotic wine, and he just could never get enough of her. For what felt like an eternity and a mere instant at the same time, they sat together, and Stefan knew he could not be happier.

Slowly, they pulled away, only to marvel at the love in each other's eyes.

"Stay." The plea came unbidden to Stefan's lips, as the sight of Elena, so close, so solid, so real, brought afresh the pain of losing her in Bonnie's vision. Through the haze of joy and love, he could feel a niggling feeling of uncertainty, a fear that she would leave yet again. But this heaven, it was perfection; how could someone separate them now? There was no way that Elena could be torn away from him this time.

But Elena's smile turned sad at his words; her lapis eyes lost their mischievous sparkle.

"Stefan..." she murmured hesitatingly, and Stefan felt his heart go cold. He had learnt to understand every little gesture that Elena made; every time she said 'Stefan', it had a separate meaning in it, and this, this meant that his request was one she could not keep.

" _No_ , Elena." His grip on her wrist tightened, as if holding her would stop the separation. "Don't leave me. Please. Every time... It keeps happening every time... I can't bear it! I can't stand this anymore, Elena!" Stefan knew that his expression must now be like a dying man grasping at the last straws of life, desperate. Elena's blue eyes filled with tears.

"Stefan, I don't want to. I never want to leave you, Stefan! But..."

"But what, Elena! What is it? Is it Klaus again? I'll break him down bone to bone, I'll —"

"No, Stefan." Every line of her face was filled with melancholy, now. Even as she spoke, her voice began to grow distant, and she began to fade. Everything began to fade — the clearing, the trees, the sunlight... swallowed by a thick mist.

"Elena! Elena, please!" Stefan tried fruitlessly to grasp her, to hold on to her, even as the wind picked up. Everything had whirled into a haze of grey and white.

"It's just a dream, Stefan." He heard her voice from far away. "It's all in your head."

And as the world closed in on him, he heard a final whisper, which was so faint that he wondered if it was just the wind:

"I love you, Stefan."

Stefan woke up with a jolt, his eyes finding the room dark for the first time in his vampire life. His eyes swiveled wildly, searching for something from Elena — her golden glow, her voice, anything, but the room was as bare as ever.

The pain flared up, raw in his chest, unbearable, intolerable. He had lost her again. Twice in a day. It was all he could take.

"Elena," he whispered raggedly, again and again, as if repeating it like a chant would bring her back. She wasn't gone, he knew that. She was, as Klaus had put it, 'vibrating at a higher frequency'. She had become a spirit, but that didn't mean that Stefan did not love her, that he did not want her back. But she hadn't ever said anything about coming back, had she? She was gone for good. He had lost her forever.

 _It had been a dream, just a dream,_ he told himself bitterly, trying to hold on to any shred of self control. _Not even a vision, just a dream._ But the thought of his own mind playing tricks on him, amplifying his loss, was the last straw.

Hot tears came to his eyes as he let himself soak in the pain of losing Elena twice in one day. He drew his knees closer to his body, sitting in silence and darkness.

The teardrops drenched the dark material of his trousers as the night drew on.

-o0o-

The pain that burnt in Stefan's body, concentrating in his abdomen, was almost too much. He had felt the throes of death once, five hundred years ago, when his brother's blade had pierced his heart. And now he felt it again, but as if in an extended version. He hadn't lied to Damon when he had told him that he couldn't be saved; he felt the harsh fact in his bones, in his inflamed muscles. His time was nearly up.

He wished Bonnie would understand it. Stefan felt a mixture of awe, admiration and concern for the petite redhead kneeling before him, protecting him, tossing her life away. She needed to listen to him; trying to save him was pointless, she'd only be wasting her precious life.

 _"Elena! Elena! Elena_!"

Bonnie's cry startled Stefan out of his wound-induced daze. Klaus recoiled. For a moment, everything stood still. Stefan held his breath, letting the magic of that name soothe him, emotionally. But what use was Bonnie's call? Elena couldn't come... she had never before...

But even in the situation of stark hopelessness, Stefan felt a rush of hope and faith for his beloved.

For seconds, nothing happened. Then, a sort of mist began to form near the ground. Stefan stared at it, puzzled, until something clicked into place, and he felt his heart swell with hope.

Bonnie turned to look at him, fascination and confusion clear on her face.

"Unquiet spirits," Stefan replied to her unasked question, his eyes bright and intent. "The solstice."

Bonnie and Stefan watched the soldiers of Fell's Church rise from the mist, mesmerized. Soldiers of both sides, all laid to rest after sacrificing their lives for their cause, now risen once again. But then, just as Bonnie's grip tightened around Stefan's wrist, Stefan sucked in a gulp of air sharply. They had noticed the same thing, at the same time. The army had a leader. And as Stefan saw the golden glow of the figure, he had no doubt about who she was, and he felt so glad that he thought his heart might just burst. She had no form yet, but Stefan looked on with wide eyes, his lips lifting in a small smile. He was so glad she had come; he was so glad that she would be the last thing he saw before his end. He stared upon her iridescent, golden aura, memorizing every inch of it, feeling a wave of utter peace envelope him.

And then, as her golden hair discernible, she turned upon Klaus. Bonnie gasped.

"She came," Bonnie whispered in awe.

"You asked her to," Stefan murmured. Every breath he took was a greater struggle than the last, but his smile never left his place. Elena was like a golden balm, soothing him, giving him strength until his end came.

Elena's voice was like wind-chimes as she confronted Klaus, her words reaching him simultaneously in his ears and mind. Stefan watched the encounter like a spectator — the way Elena spoke, fearless and strong, the soldiers' charge, Klaus's last cry and his disappearance, Tyler's escape — feeling strangely calmer than he had felt all through this summer.

"Elena," Bonnie spoke for the first time after Klaus had been taken care of. Elena's attention turned to her, and then shifted over to Stefan. She was blindingly bright, but Stefan didn't flinch. If anything, he felt drawn to her like a moth to flame. His smile grew.

"He's been stopped now," he spoke, trying his best to keep his voice steady. "Thanks to you."

"It was Bonnie who called us," Elena replied. "And she couldn't have done it at the right place and the right time without you and the others."

"I tried to keep my promise."

"I know, Stefan."

Even to his own ears, the conversation felt like a farewell. But Stefan didn't mind. He wanted this to end, so that he could finally be with Elena, forever.

"Elena," Bonnie spoke up, her voice shaking. "Can't you— do something? Can't you help him?"

Elena's smile turned sad.

"I can do something," she said. "But I don't know if it's the kind of help he wants." She turned back to him. "Stefan, I can cure what Klaus did. Tonight I have that much Power. But I can't cure what Katherine did."

So she understood. She knew about his hatred for his vampire life, his desire to be a human. He had always wanted to give Elena what any other boy could — a normal life, both of them equals, a normal love, without blood being involved in between; he had wanted to live with her and die with her. And after her death, the prospect of living through eternity with the raw ache of separation and guilt made the desire for this predatory lifestyle even less. Five hundred years of guilt, sorrow, isolation and self-loathing was far too long a punishment... and alone, it was unbearable. He just wanted it to end.

"It's been too long," Stefan said to Elena. "If you _did_ cure it, I'd be a pile of dust."

"Yes." Elena didn't smile, just went on looking at him steadily. "Do you want my help, Stefan?"

Stefan thought about the offer. Could he do it?

"To go on living in this world in the shadows…" he whispered, lost in thought.

"To go on trying," Bonnie broke in, her tone defiant. Stefan stared at her. And then Elena looked at him, her lips lifted in a small smile.

 _She's right,_ she seemed to say. _They need you. You are brave, Stefan. Can you be braver?_

Stefan felt his own lips twitch upwards. He had made his decision. Someday, he'd have to thank sweet Bonnie for giving him courage, for being so brave and strong.

"Yes," he said quietly. "I want your help."

She bent over him, and kissed him.

As soon as their lips met, Stefan felt warmth spread over to every part of his body. He felt content and comfortable, all the intense pain only a distant memory. Elena's aura seemed to flow into him, and everything around him became a golden haze. There was power in this kiss, something divine, and Stefan wondered if she hadn't just brought him to heaven.

 _Angel,_ he thought dazedly, drunk on her presence.

 _My love,_ she whispered back in his mind.

Unexpectedly, Stefan did not feel a sense of loss as Elena pulled away. It was as if a part of her aura was still inside him, healing him with a gentle thoroughness. He watched contentedly as Elena repeated the procedure with Matt, Meredith, Caroline and Damon. He didn't even feel the slightest spark of negativity as he saw Elena kiss his brother. Her magic was still working within him.

Finally, Elena turned to Stefan.

"My last gift to you," Elena said, and it began to rain. The cold drops soothed his healed skin, and doused the fire which would otherwise have consumed them. But he only looked at Elena, from whose face the smile had now eclipsed. Alarm bells rang out in his brain as he saw the sorrow in her eyes. It meant only one thing.

"It's midnight," she said, confirming his fears. "And I have to go."

"Just a few more minutes," he said, reaching for her. Anything to prolong the moments. He couldn't let her go, not now, not again. They had been so close, so close this time... and it was for real, not a vision or a dream. They hadn't even talked properly... he had so many things to say to her... If she left, this time, now, then Stefan knew that he wouldn't be able to live, in spite of everything Bonnie had said.

"I'm sorry—" Elena's expression was full of sorrow and helpless desperation. Stefan felt his mouth go dry. _Not now. Please. Don't leave yet._

"Elena, wait—I need to tell you—" he called after her. _I need to tell you that I love you. That I can't live without you. That you are an angel. That Damon and I are okay now, thanks to you. Please come back. Don't leave me._ So many things. But he couldn't. There was no time.

"I can't!" Elena's cry was haunting. All serenity was gone from her face, replaced by grief. "Stefan, I can't wait. I'm so sorry."

She was fading, somehow disappearing to some other realm. Desperately, Stefan reached out to her at the same moment Elena did. But her fingers never touched his.

"Elena— _please_!" Stefan remembered how he had called to her after Bonnie's vision; it was the same now. His heart was breaking. He vaguely wondered just how many times he would be put through this.

"Stefan!" Elena's face was twisted in pain, almost as if she were crying. Both of her hands were stretched out to him now, but still, he couldn't reach her. She just kept going farther and farther away, slipping away with every second.

"Stefan!" This time, Elena's cry was distant, a frail echo of her earlier voice. And then the fading mist of gold disappeared completely.

For seconds, Stefan stared at the spot she had disappeared, hoping against hope that she would somehow appear again, with her bright smile and brilliant eyes. But nothing happened. The night remained as dark as as ever. Not even a wink of light appeared.

Stefan lowered his head in defeat, and felt the heat of tears dripping down his cheeks with the coolness of the rain. It was over. Everything was over. He felt his chest heaving, the grief and longing building in his chest far, far worse than the pain caused by Klaus's attack.

"It isn't fair," he heard Bonnie whisper close to him, but didn't bother to look up. "It isn't fair!" Bonnie screamed to the heavens. Her words rang through him. It wasn't fair. When had it been fair, ever? Fate seemed to joke with him, giving him Elena only to take her back, gifting him joy only to take its payment in sorrow far worse than he could bear... The ache in his chest became in bearable. The grief became a choking weight. He couldn't stand it anymore. He couldn't...

Stefan lifted his face to the sky. It only had thick clouds with small clear patches where stars winked. But where was the light he longed for? She wasn't here, she never would be...

" _Elena_!" he cried, putting all his pain, all his grief and loss and longing into that cry. He didn't care who heard it, what anybody thought of him, he didn't care about anything except that Elena was gone and she wasn't coming back and it wasn't what she deserved and...

A flash of golden lightning rocked the skies and fell to the clearing. And when it cleared, Stefan saw a girl on the forest floor, a very familiar girl with golden hair. But it was impossible. Impossible because the girl looked like Elena.

It had to be an illusion. He had been so broken by the loss that he had lost his head. But everyone else was looking at the girl too, like they were seeing a ghost.

"Bonnie?" the girl spoke. The voice wasn't like the wind chime like ring that he had heard minutes before. It was an ordinary voice, a frightened voice. But it was also Elena's voice, the human Elena he had met and fallen in love with first.

Stefan watched, flanked by Matt and Damon, as Bonnie tottered towards the girl, and touched her. Her fingers were solid. He watched as Bonnie broken down in sobs.

"You're here," she sobbed. "I can touch you, Elena!"

Elena gasped back, "I can touch you! I'm here!" She grabbed the leaves again. "I can touch the ground!"

Stefan watched, stunned, as Meredith sobbed into her bare shoulders, as Caroline gave her her dress to cover herself. But he could not move, he could not make a sound. He was frozen on the spot, still with shock. Was it real? Could it be real? After everything they had faced —

Then Elena whispered, "Stefan."

Stefan stared as she turned. For one long second, he looked into her eyes, the loveliest deep blue as ever, emotions swimming in them. Then she took a tottering step towards him, as if she wasn't used to walking anymore. And another. And another. Stefan almost let her reach all the way to him, before the bonds holding him still broke, and he rushed towards her. They met, arms moving round each other all in a moment, and Stefan felt as if all the wonders of the universe had opened to him all at once. In their frenzy to hold on to each other, they fell to the ground, Elena's poor balance not helping, but neither minded it. For several seconds they just held on to each other. Stefan buried his face in Elena's hair, soaking in her warm presence. He couldn't speak; he just held on to her, half afraid she would disappear any moment.

Then Elena pulled back from him to look at him, and the love and warmth in her eyes and her smile took his breath away. He could just stare at her, into her eyes, reading the features he loved beyond anything in the universe. He cupped her face in his hands, tracing the delicate, soft skin with his fingers. And then Elena laughed, flexing her fingers, the sheer joy in her face soaking into him, warming him from head to toe. Then her slender fingers were in his hair, caressing the strands with such tenderness, and she pulled herself down on him, and kissed him.

To put all the emotions bubbling inside him in a nutshell, the universe could have been completely destroyed at that moment, and Stefan wouldn't have cared less.

* * *

 **How was it? A little review, please? It's such a great motivation hearing from you.**


	4. How do I love Thee?

**Yes, yes, I know it's been far too late... I am so sorry! But this chapter has been the toughest to write, and I have not been getting much time, what with my exams round the corner. But as a treat, this is extra long, so enjoy! Thanks for the generous reviews!**

* * *

 _ **"He wanted to give back to her the feelings she had given to him in his room. He wanted to hold her hard; he wanted to kiss her until she trembled. He wanted to make her melt and swoon with it."**_ _— The Nightfall_

The soft, clear light of the breaking dawn fell into Stefan's face through the open window, making his eyes flutter open. Even as his senses cleared of the daze of slumber, Stefan became aware of a petite body against his own, his arms wrapped around the person's waist. For a moment, he froze. Who was this person, and how did she happen to be in his room? But then the events of last night came to him, and all at once, his heart swelled with a joy so intense that he felt that he would just burst.

Elena. He was with Elena. She had come back last night, and she was human again. Wholely solid, absolutely real, and delicately human, just the way he had loved her. Stefan had got another chance at happiness, and he was determined not to let it go.

Propping himself up on one elbow, he let himself silently savor the beauty that lay beside him, sleeping. She looked so innocent in sleep, her golden hair tumbling in shimmering waves all around her, her skin shining ever so softly in the first light of the sun. Delicately tracing her bare skin with his fingers, he sighed, the smile on his face only growing.

As the brightness of the daylight grew, Stefan felt Elena stir beside him. He drew back carefully, waiting for her to fully awaken. Bells of joy began to chime inside him as the realization came — Elena was waking up beside him after such a long time. Finally, after so many hardships, they were together. As Elena gave a little yawn, stretched and sat up, rubbing at her eyes, Stefan held his breath.

 _Elena, Elena, Elena_ — her name swam around in his head in a never-ending line of love.

Elena opened her deep blue eyes and looked at him, and Stefan felt his smile grow wider and a long sigh escaped him.

"Hello, love," he whispered to her.

Elena didn't say anything. She only looked at him steadily, as the seconds passed, her lips not lifting up. Stefan stared at her, and his smile slipped.

"E-elena?" Was something wrong with her?

And then, as if she had understood a very complex puzzle, her face lit up in a beatific smile. It felt like a ray of the early sun, it was so bright and pure. But still, she did not speak.

"Elena, love?" Her smile was better, but Stefan was still worried. "Say something." _Anything. Anything at all._

But she only blinked at him, her blue eyes wide and innocent. And then lifted her arms in a mute appeal for closeness.

But Stefan only stared. It was not like Elena not to speak; she would always come up with some witty remark, or some loving statement, which would make him relax and feel happy. A niggling feeling kept bothering him, that something was amiss, even as she shifted closer. It was then that he noticed. Her eyes.

Oh, they were still the same malachite blue that he loved. But something was still wrong with them. The intelligence that they always shone with, a signal of the brilliant plans her clever brain churned out, it was all gone. Instead, they were wide and innocent. Too innocent. Like a child's...

Even as Stefan sat lost in his thoughts, Elena was still waiting patiently for him, her arms open, although her smile had faltered a bit. But as much as Stefan wanted to acknowledge her call and melt into her hold, he didn't let himself. He _had_ to know first, he had to get an idea of what was wrong, because something _was_ wrong. Something was definitely wrong.

"Elena," he said slowly, "Do you know who I am?" He couldn't help think of the time when she had newly awakened as a vampire, and although there was no sense of hatred or an animosity towards him in her expression, he couldn't be sure.

She spoke no words, but suddenly, a series of images flashed in Stefan's mind. He gasped, completely unprepared for the onslaught. The pictures showed him, all of them, and some of them were with Elena. His first day at school, him fighting Tyler, random events with Elena... they all flashed before his eyes in rapid succession. And finally, he _felt_ it — it wasn't in language or voice, but yet somehow he felt it in his mind, and felt the incredible amount of love that washed with it — ' _Stefan_ '.

And then his vision was clear, but Stefan felt so dazed he could hardly see. He still did not embrace Elena, just sat dumbfounded, a frown on his face.

"Elena," he whispered, afraid and wondering, "What happened to you?"

His continued rejection seemed to hurt her, because without warning, her lips trembled, and her eyes filled with tears. And before he could get a word out, she had hovered into the air, yes, she actually _flew up,_ and zooming to a corner of the room, settled half a feet above the ground, her legs crossed, facing the wall, and began to sob.

It took the longest time for Stefan's brain to restart as he stared at her. Questions swam in his mind — what _had_ happened to Elena? She could _fly_? What had he done to hurt her? He felt dizzy with all the confusion. Finally, as his mind did kickstart into action, he stumbled off the bed and ran over to Elena.

"Elena... Little lovely love," he said, the strange endearment sounding oddly fitting to his ears, "Look at me."

It took a little more coaxing to make her oblige. As she fixed her big blue eyes on him, he received another series of mental pictures, which he deciphered with some difficulty as, _Are you still angry with me?_

"Oh Elena," he sighed, "I can never be angry with you." And this time, he pulled her in his arms and carried her to the bed.

As she leaned against his shoulders and shifted closer, snuggling up to him, Stefan felt his previous thoughts revert back to him. _Like a child's..._

He had come to this conclusion by now, because it was the only thing that made sense (and yet it did not make the least sense to him, not at all) — impossible as it may seem (but she had come back to life after dying, so practically nothing was impossible anymore ), Elena had somehow turned into a sort of a baby angel, a spiritual child.

-o0o-

"You need to have a bath, Elena," Stefan offered when the sun had climbed up high over the boarding house. He was yet to get used to the transformation she had gone through; he wondered if even months were enough for that, let alone half a day. However hard he racked his brains, Stefan could not recall coming across a situation even remotely close to this, ever in real life, books or old lore. But then, he had never heard of anyone coming back to life, not as a vampire but completely alive, so he had no idea what was supposed to happen after this, and where it would lead.

The mental images that Elena sent him told him that she had a vague idea about bathing. But she wasn't being able to undo her dress.

Stefan felt his face flame up as he realised what he was supposed to do. He had never undressed a woman in his life, and although this was not to be any romantic attempt, he still felt terribly embarrassed.

Elena beckoned to him again with her mind. Gulping, Stefan nodded, and taking her hand, led her to the bathroom. He filled the tub with water, and using his Power (it took a considerable amount, since he did not drink human blood), he regulated the temperature of the water to a comfortable lukewarm. Then he added a packet of vanilla bathing salts (he himself didn't keep any, but Mrs Flowers had kindly supplied some of her own herb infused preparations), and finally, turned to the toughest of the tasks.

Elena was looking at him all the time, and the trust in her eyes was so intense it was almost heartbreaking.

Taking a ragged breath, he pushed himself towards his beloved. It wasn't as if he had any wish to keep himself from her, but undressing Elena somehow felt like taking advantage of her, because her mind was a child's, not hers.

The nightgown that Elena wore was Meredith's; the three girls — Meredith, Bonnie and Caroline had made sure to give away some of their clothes to Elena when he dropped them to their homes late in the night. The dress that Elena now wore was white, with an interweaving of white lace tying it up at the back. Stefan walked up close to her, and gently pushed her hair away from her back. They were so close now, every breathe that Elena breathed felt like his own.

"Just a second, and then this nightgown will be off," he murmured, undoing the ties with slightly trembling fingers.

And that was when he became aware of it.

The perfume. Elena's perfume. It had been there all along, but now that he was so close, he was acutely aware of it. Elena's scent, the smell of her delectable blood had always been an allure to Stefan, but now there was a change in it. Now it was like a heady mixture of it all, an impossible perfume to his sharp sense of smell — strong and sweet as musk and jasmine: heady, warm, as complex as Tolu balsam with its sweetness of cinnamon and vanilla; and as simple as the freshness of a newly picked wild rose. Now and then as he stood with her, he would be aware of something new in it — the smell of juniper or copal, or sometimes, a deep note of earthy ambergris, a fragrant, light tinge of orange blossom . . .

A questioning air emitted from Elena, along with a sense of pleasure and desire. Stefan broke out from his daze, only to observe that instead of slipping the dress off her and being done with it, he was running his hands over her exposed shoulder blades, hands which were treacherously moving south, his canines tingling pleasantly. Feeling his face grow hot, he quickly retracted his hands from her, and keeping his eyes averted, undressed her completely. Then, continuously refraining from looking at her in any way (because that delicious scent of hers told him that if he did, he would lose control altogether), he carried her in his arms to the bathtub. Her bare skin against his arms made goosebumps run up his body, and he felt slightly dizzy. Once Elena was safely deposited in the warm, vanilla scented water, Stefan backed up.

"When you are done, just step out, dry up with this towel and come out," he instructed. He could feel Elena getting confused as to why he wasn't looking at her, but he ignored the call, desperately resisting the temptation. With his job temporarily done, he stepped out of the bathroom and waited.

Stefan couldn't understand this sudden intensity of his attraction towards Elena. He felt as unstable and uncontrolled as the first time he had met her, except this time, the bloodlust was accompanied by other feelings. The needs to touch, kiss and hold and... human needs. True, he had tried to cling to his human roots, but he knew very well that the only mode of passion for vampires was sharing blood, linking their thoughts as they did so, but what he felt now... Stefan had to admit it, he had never felt so much like a human since he was turned.

The bathroom door opened minutes later. Stefan looked up from his musings, anticipating Elena's entry. His jaw dropped as he saw her.

She was naked. Stark naked. Every inch of her pale, delicious skin was exposed. Her golden hair spread in a wet tangle over her back, and her flawless skin reminded Stefan of the arrival of Venus on earth. His mouth was dry. The temperature in the room had soared.

"I — I—" he stammered, struggling to form a coherent thought, let alone speak. Elena however looked completely at ease, her face lit in an innocent smile.

"Towel," Stefan managed to mumble finally. Most of his consciousness was at the moment struggling to stop himself from pouncing on her. "Elena — towel."

Her face showed only confusion. She was not aware of the taboo of nakedness.

"Wear — that — towel." With every word, his mind cleared, but very slowly. "You need to wrap that towel around you." In a rush, Stefan walked to the bathroom got the said piece of clothing. Then, knowing that Elena didn't have the slightest idea how to fix it around her, he proceeded to do so himself, forcing his eyes not to travel any lower than her torso.

And God, her scent! It was stronger to Stefan than ever before, seemingly enhanced by bathing, purer, more alluring. The vanilla undertone of the bathing salts only complemented the incredible symphony of the other perfumes. How he longed to pierce that soft skin and take the nectar that flowed inside, which was calling out to him like a siren's song. His whole body trembled as he worked on tucking the towel around Elena.

"Come," he said shakily, taking her by the hand towards the wardrobe. He needed some space now, or he would snap...

"Pick any one of these, okay?" he said, throwing the wardrobe doors open, and pointing to the dresses inside.. "Take whichever you like."

His and Elena's borrowed dresses were placed side by side, and leaving her to take her pick, he escaped to the roof through the trapdoor. He needed some fresh air, now. He had to clear Elena's scent from his head, before he went mad with bloodlust. But this time, it wasn't just bloodlust. Elena's scent was taking these other feelings in him to unbelievable heights — the overpowering need to kiss her, touch her, hold her, had been swamping his mind. It was very strange; yes, he had those feelings earlier too, but never this mind-blankingly intense. It was as if something had changed in Elena; her allure now was like the cool running water of a mountain spring over that of a common lake. Purer, more exotic.

This pull wouldn't have been such a great difficulty had the situation been different. He could have sated himself with Elena, although the need to control his wild side would be more imperative. But Elena.. he couldn't do it to her now. Because she wasn't herself in her mind; she wasn't the intelligent young woman anymore, but a child. And loving her the way he did.. it would be taking advantage of a child. And both his human and vampire principles told him that he must never touch a child.

He was roused from his contemplation by Elena's telepathic call. Hurriedly coming down from his hiding place, he walked towards the wardrobe to see what she had chosen. His breath caught in his throat, and his face flushed a dark pink as he saw her.

Elena was wearing his shirt. His sky blue shirt, which she had always loved to see him wear. It was a couple of sizes too big for her, and reached up to her thighs. She had tied his belt around her waist, and the whole setup served as a very short chemise. The entire length of her long, creamy white legs were revealed in an open treat to Stefan's eyes. With her dripping hair and the so very short dress, she stood right in front of him, a smile on her sweet lips. Stefan stopped breathing altogether.

"E-Elena... Please change that dress," he husked out, his whole body trembling with the effort of restraining himself. Not again. He had already seen her naked, and it had taken all his self control to keep his head. Now... how he longed to hold her close, to kiss her, to take her up in his arms and run his hands over her smooth, delicious legs...

 _You don't like it?_ her mental pictures said. _You don't like my day gown?_

He refused to answer that question.

"Please," he whispered again. "Change it. Here," In a quick movement, he grabbed a simple green dress that was Caroline's. "Wear this." And leaving her holding the dress, hurt and bewildered, he fled from the room once more to clear his mind, shaking his head like a wet dog as he went.

-o0o-

As night fell, Stefan gently led Elena to bed. He couldn't believe how fast the day had gone by. _And not without incident,_ he thought dryly, feeling a blush creep up his cheeks even then at the remembrance of the day's events.

Putting Elena down on the pillows, he propped himself up on his elbow and stroked her hair.

"Go to sleep, sweetheart," he murmured. "Goodnight."

Elena's bright eyes stared wide at him, and then with a loving smile on her lips, she shut her eyes obediently. Smiling back at her, Stefan gently pecked her on the cheeks and forehead, and then retreated to the armchair where he planned to spend the night. As much as he wanted, he wasn't going to let himself sleep in the same bed as her now, because he knew that he would not be able to hold onto her without a lover's intimacy. And that, given the circumstances, would be inappropriate.

He was about to close his eyes when he let his gaze absently stray to Elena. She wasn't sleeping at all. Her eyes were wide open and steadily staring at him. Even as Stefan stared at her, she patted the space on the bed beside her.

She wanted him to sleep with her.

"It's okay, Elena, I'm fine here," Stefan told her, even as the rest of him longed to accept her offer. "I'll be right here all through the night, close to you. If you need anything, you can just wake me up."

Elena looked at him in silence, and then patted the bed again, more insistently.

"I'm sorry, lovely love," Stefan sighed. "But I am sleeping here. That is final."

He let his eyes close as silence fell, trying to convince himself that he hadn't seen the hurt in her expression, and the way her eyes filled with tears.

-o0o-

Stefan woke up in the middle of the night, unsure what woke him up. It had been three days since Elena returned, and he was getting more and more used to her child-like presence, even though it was far from enough. She was learning fast, although she could still communicate only through mental images. She could not read, write or talk. She was so pure and innocent, almost naïve, about the restraints and ordeals of the society. Another new thing about her was her ability to fly. She would rise into the air without warning, defying gravity. He had even seen her once or twice in the air with her legs in the lotus position, as if she were a saint having attained divinity. Stefan kept encouraging her every day, every hour, with true facts too; it was undeniable that she was learning faster and faster everyday — new mental pictures, greater concepts. Stefan didn't know how long it would take, but he was sure that someday Elena would become the young adult she had been in both mind and body.

The night was dark and quiet. As Stefan sat up straight in the armchair, where he had been spending his nights, the first thing that came to his notice was the bed. It was empty.

Panic clutched him in a vice grip. Where was Elena? What had happened?

"Elena!" he called, standing up hurriedly. "Elena, where are you?"

There was no reply. Cautiously, Stefan walked ahead, scanning the room, his senses strained to detect anything. And then he heard it. There were some faint noises coming from the bathroom. Taking long strides, he reached the door, only to stand still, dumbfounded.

Elena was on the floor, leaning against the bathtub, poring anxiously over a newspaper. As he stepped nearer, he found the paper stained with tears. Elena was so fixed on the paper, trying to read, she did not even acknowledge his presence.

"But why, love?" Stefan asked her, puzzled. She had been very zealous in trying to get back her reading and writing abilities, but surely she didn't need to stress about it. "You'll learn to read again. Why rush?"

And then his eyes fell on the other materials on the floor. There were bits of pencil, evidently broken from too hard a grip, and some paper napkins, neatly hoarded in a pile. There were little squiggles on the surface of the napkins, an attempt at childishly imitating the bold words of the headlines. For a couple of seconds, Stefan just stood, uncomprehending, but then it all fell into place, even as he stared deep into Elena's lapis eyes and image after image ran through his mind. Elena was afraid, insecure. She thought that maybe if she could write like other people, Stefan would stop sleeping in his chair and would hold her on the bed. She was afraid that being child-like, she wasn't good enough for him, and that he might go looking for someone older or smarter. Her literacy would be proof for him to know that she was a grown-up.

As he put all this together in his mind, Stefan felt tears come to his eyes. Was this what he had done to her? He had hurt her, deprived her? But he had only wanted to do what was best for her. Had he been so wrong? Stefan had been brought up with the lesson that as a man, he was never allowed to cry. But the tears refused to stop, so he turned his back on his beloved, and breathed slowly and deeply for what felt like a very long time, desperately composing himself.

And then he picked her up, and gently carried her to the bed in his room. He looked into her eyes, feeling himself drown in the deep blue lakes, and said, "Elena, tell me what you want me to do. Even if it's impossible, I'll do it. I swear it. Tell me." _I'll do whatever it takes to make you happy. I promise. Never again will you be sad because of me._

At his words, Elena's tears spilled from her beautiful eyes, down her rosy cheeks. _Oh love, don't cry,_ Stefan wanted to say, but he remained silent, very carefully wiping the moisture from her skin.

Then Elena turned her face up, and shut her eyes, and pursed her lips slightly.

Stefan stared as he understood what she wanted. Just what he had been stopping himself from giving in to this long...

"You're just a child in your mind now," Stefan agonized. "How can I take advantage of you?" Because it was; it was taking advantage of a child because clearly Elena couldn't make her own decisions yet. He looked into her eyes for several seconds, hoping that she would not be hurt, and understand that it was for her own good, not his. That he wanted her now, more than ever.

Elena looked at him in silence for some time, her expression only having some amount of annoyance and the muted plea. And then her index finger reached under her chin.

Tap, tap, tap...

Stefan groaned. He knew only too well what this meant. There was a sign language they had had, back in Elena's old life, which Elena evidently still remembered. When they would be too lost in each other and reluctant to break the silence between them, Elena would tap under her chin, just where it was softest: once, twice, three times. It meant she felt uncomfortable inside. As if she were too full in her throat. It meant she wanted… that she wanted him to take her blood.

Stefan clutched his head in his hands, a low moan escaping him. He could never resist when she did that. "I can't …."

Tap, tap, tap… The torture continued.

"You're not back to your old self yet…." He was grasping at any reason, because all reason was suddenly fleeing him as the the bloodlust descended, fuelled by her invitation.

Tap, tap, tap… Elena went on, relentless.

"Listen to me, love…."

TAP! TAP! TAP! Her request was more insistent than ever, and as Stefan felt his Adam's apple bob in his throat, she gazed at him with pleading eyes, wordlessly begging.

"You hurt. You're really hurting," Stefan said, dazedly, literally feeling his resistance shatter. He vaguely wondered if she had managed to get everything her way as a child. But he could not stand anymore. He couldn't think at all. While her eyes pleaded innocently, her perfume seduced him with its heavenly call. A man could only stand this much.

"I—if I—if I only take a little…" he murmured, negotiating with himself, even as the selfish part of him cheered, victorious. And then he lost it. His fingers cool and sure from experience, he moved her head, lifting it, turning it at just this angle, and then his already lengthened canines were sinking into her soft, soft skin, giving him tingles all over his body, a proof surer than anything that she was alive and not a spirit anymore.

And as her blood flowed into him, their minds melted together, and then was no barrier between them, everything crystal clear. In Elena's feelings he felt a love so strong that it threatened to drown him, and he knew that there was no one who loved him more greatly and no one he loved more in all the universe. Elena spoke to him then, in little mental exclamations — with stars and comets and streaks of light falling around her. They were the only ones here, nobody in between, nothing to interrupt. The pleasure they wrought between them was stronger than anything that Stefan had felt before; it left him completely dazed. And while Elena spoke to him in thoughts all that she hadn't been able to tell him all these days, Stefan was the one who was not being able to think a single word to her. Stefan was the one struck mute.

 _Heaven may care what happens next_ , he thought drunkenly. He was not going to keep himself from her ever again.

* * *

 **So how was it? Hope I did justice to the incidents. Please give a review if you are so kind :)**


	5. Without an End

**And we have reached the final chapter! Thanks to everyone who read, reviewed, favourited and followed this.**

* * *

 ** _"...Stefan knew what she wanted, and he wanted whatever she wanted him to do."_** _— The Nightfall_

In these days of dark misadventures, the time of the breaking dawn had to be Stefan's favourite. For one thing, the coming of this time without any unwanted interruption meant the safe and peaceful passage of night. And then there was Elena. Her presence was what he cared about the most, and even the present child-like version of her, in mind, was something he could never get enough of. She was learning like wildfire, and Stefan was sure she would be back to normal someday, soon. Holding her through the night, so content and trusting in him, was like a gift he never knew what he had done to deserve in life.

This time of early dawn was also a unique time for Stefan when he slept. This was the time just before awakening, and his dreams had a connection with the reality outside his realm of sleep.

As of that day, he was dreaming, not unexpectedly, of Elena. It was a common thing with him; most of his dreams concerned her. However, as opposed to the rose tinted images that he usually saw of the one who was the only woman to him in the entire universe, that night was a tempest. For some reason unknown, the nightmares that had haunted Stefan in the early days of loving Elena — his biggest fear, that had always chased him, in sleep and in waking — resurfaced in his dreams, after a long time. Stefan was thoroughly acquainted with this, and yet it never ceased to frighten the living daylights of him every time.

It started with him and Elena together, their longing for each other so intense it seemed that they had been separated for ages. The Elena of his dreams was not a spirit child, but a blooming woman in the brink of adulthood, both in mind and body. Her deep blue eyes gleamed with intelligence and mischief and a love so strong, Stefan easily gravitated towards her.

His control seemed less that night, because he did not talk, he did not not even look at her. His canines were already lengthened to fangs, and without thought, Stefan pierced her neck. The sensation was so sweet, and he was drowning, drowning, drowning in it...

Only too late did it dawn upon him that he was in ecstasy for too long, that this should not happen. He pulled back hurriedly, but by then, the crime was complete — Elena lay before him, still and white and bloodless.

"No!" Stefan shouted, shaking her. "Elena! Elena please!" But she did not move, two tiny puncture marks being all the proof of what had happened. Stefan felt tears run down his eyes, but nothing was changing, Elena wasn't moving.

"Stefan, it's okay. I'm here," a voice spoke behind him. Stefan turned, and there she was, perfect and good as new, with a smile on her face.

"Elena!" In a moment, she was in his arms. "Oh God, I thought I had lost you."

"Stefan..."

"Elena."

"And now, what am I?"

"You're beautiful," Stefan answered automatically, the truth that was eternal to him slipping out without even need of thought. But the next second, it felt wrong. That was disjointed... That sentence didn't connect with the rest of the dream. Which meant that it was happening outside, in reality. Which meant that it was the real Elena who had said the words.

Wait a minute... Elena, speaking?

In a moment he had rocketed up, all sleep gone.

"You're talking!" he exclaimed, looking wide-eyed at his girlfriend, who, the last time he had seen, was but childlike in her capabilities. Said girlfriend was now sitting across him on the bed, her eyes shining with both thoughtfulness and mischief as her lips smiling at him.

"I know I am," she replied. She was _actually_ talking!

"And making sense!" Stefan simply couldn't believe his senses.

"Thank you kindly." Her eyes danced with amusement at his astonishment.

"And in sentences!"

"I've noticed." God, she was cheeky, that one!

"Go on, then, and say something long—please," Stefan requested; he still couldn't believe it. All he could think was that this was just an illusion, or maybe some extension of the dream; this wasn't happening. It was too good to be true.

"You've been hanging out too much with my friends," Elena said, the words coming out of her pretty lips perfectly, without a single flaw. "That sentence has Bonnie's impudence, Matt's courtesy, and Meredith's insistence on the facts."

Some other situation, he would have chuckled at how true this observation was, and feel a beaming adoration at Elena for her wit, but now, Stefan felt robbed of his own wit.

"Elena, it's you!"

Elena did not reply with the common — "Stefan, it is me!" which would have kept up with the silly dialogue he was spewing. She did not speak at all. Her expression turned thoughtful, and then she carefully stepped out of the bed. As the sheet covering her body fell away, Stefan hastily looked away, his ingrained manners preventing him from looking at her naked figure even when he had seen her once already. Groping around for the robe she had shed last night, he handed it to her. Seconds passed in complete silence as Stefan gave her enough time to get dressed. But when he turned around after a decent interval, he saw Elena kneeling in the sunlight holding the robe. He sat still for a moment, stunned and awed. Her hair falling on her back and over her shoulder shone an even exotic golden in the sun's young light. Her skin flushed and delicate... she looked divine. The only thing that she seemed to him at the moment was a very young angel in meditation. The only thing left to complete the picture was a pair of great white wings. _Who knows, maybe they are in her possession, hidden somewhere, for she can't be anything else,_ he thought absently. His eyes continued to worship her body even as his mind mulled over the cause of her prolonged silence.

"Elena?" he ventured softly.

She lifted her head and looked at him. "Stefan," she murmured. Her eyes shone, wide and so deep a blue, and tears clung to her long lashes. He sucked in a sharp gulp of air.

"But you're crying." What was it? Was she not happy to be back to normal? Did the earth feel inadequate after her trip to wherever her spirit had been? Was _he_ adequate to her any longer?

"I'm human again, Stefan," Elena replied as an explanation. She lifted a hand, and let it fall into the clutches of gravity. She won't be floating in the air anymore. "I'm human again. No more, no less. I guess it just took me a few days to get fully back on track."

So that was it. It was understandable; after everything she had been through, being back to a normal human must be overwhelming to her. But was she? After everything that had happened, Stefan couldn't be sure of anything anymore.

She was looking straight into his eyes, and the steady gaze of her beautiful blue eyes caught him. How they had looked into each others eyes for hours these days, conversing using their telepathy, two souls connected into one being, united. Could they do it any longer, now that she was human again? Stefan sent out a tendril of thought into her mind, probing through her brain. As easily as any other time, he could read her thoughts, her feelings — her confused wondering of how her being back, _really_ back, was going to change things, her uncertainties, her looking back into her behavior as a spirit child, and beneath it, as always, that overflowing love and gratitude for him and him alone.

Feeling his own love for overwhelm him, Stefan sent a telepathic message to her — _I can read your mind_. Did it even mean anything, or were things how they had been back when he had first fallen for her — a one-sided connection of minds, save the times when they shared blood? Elena's words confirmed his musings.

"But I can't read yours, Stefan. I can only get a general sense, and even that may be going…we can't count on anything."

He could sense her insecurity, both in her mind her body language. The same fear that she had when she had been a spirit child — that Stefan would not find her up to his satisfaction, now that all the supernatural connection between them had ended, now that she was, what she thought, _ordinary_. Stefan wanted to laugh. Why did she even think that? Didn't she see that it was always the other way round? That he feared that _he_ was the one who would not be enough for her? Elena was perfect. And for him, there was no other woman in all the universe.

"Elena," Stefan said, wanting another more than to wash her fears away, "I have all I want in this room." He patted the bed. "Sit by me and I can say 'all I want is on this bed.'" _Very poetic, Salvatore,_ his subconscious smirked. _And very cheesy_. But he brushed it away, and looked at her expectantly. _I love you, Elena. I love you more than I can believe, more than I can imagine_.

Elena's eyes shone brighter as she heard his words, and she straightened up, but instead of sitting, she launched herself at him. Stefan grabbed her even as her arms encircled his neck. Their legs tangled up in each other. God, how he had missed this. He held her closer, feeling yet again the feeling of heaven being bestowed upon him.

"I'm still very young," she whispered, holding him tightly. "And if you count it in days, we haven't had many day together like this, but—"

 _Young_. And that one word brought back that old annoying worry yet again, one of the many blots which pointed out how wrong his relationship with Elena was.

"I'm still far too old for you. But to be able to look at you and see you looking back at me—" _that is enough. That is enough to make me forget all my fears, just remember that we are meant to be. Together._

"Tell me you'll love me forever." Elena's words cut through before he could get all of it out. Stefan paused for a fraction of a section, surprised at this sudden change of subject.

"I'll love you forever." It was so easy to say, as easy as breathing, because it was the truth. And even as he said it, he knew, as he had known ever since he met Elena, that he meant every word of that little pledge.

"No matter what happens."

Stefan blinked. Was she questioning his love, after all this time? Was she afraid that he'd leave her someday? _Elena, my love for you will stretch as long as I live, and if I have the power, even beyond_.

"Elena, Elena—I've loved you as mortal, as vampire, as pure spirit, as spiritual child—and now as human again." There, that should be it. No one required a greater justification. He had loved Elena in every form, and he would do that as many times as needed, no matter what the circumstances.

"Promise we'll be together."

For a fraction of second, Stefan choked on his words. How could he promise her this? He always wanted it, but how many times had fate been so kind? He had lost count of how many times Elena and he had gotten ripped apart. And now, now that she was human...

"We'll be together," he managed nevertheless, because he could make Elena any promise she wanted from him, and if he could not keep them, at least he would keep them close. To the best of his abilities.

"No. Stefan, this is me." Elena's brows were furrowed in a little frown, but her eyes held crystal clear understanding. She pointed to her head as if to emphasize that behind her gold-flecked blue eyes there was a bright, active mind spinning in overdrive. "I know you. Even if I can't read your mind I can read your face. All the old fears—they're back, aren't they?"

Stefan looked away. She knew him too well; yes, his fears were back, all of them. The fear of taking too much of her blood, the fear of the inevitable age difference as Elena continued to age normally while he remained, a five-hundred years old stuck behind the mask of his seventeen years old self. His fear of her being vulnerable to all the supernatural evil that threatened her and her friends. The fear of her leaving him eventually (because who would want to continue a relationship like that, an old woman with an apparent young man... and if nothing of the sort happened, there was always death). Their relationship had never been stable and easy, despite all their love, and now, Stefan felt all those worries resurface. He would never tell her this, but when she had been changed into a vampire, a small, selfish part of him had felt relieved, beneath all the guilt, relieved that they were equals now, and united for eternity, for there was no death for them now. But things had never been constant, not for them.

Forcefully, he shook the thoughts away.

"I will never leave you." He would never leave her, ever, at least until she wanted him away.

"Not for a day? Not for an hour?"

Stefan hesitated and then looked up at her. What was it with Elena? Did she doubt him?

 _If that's what you really want,_ he projected to her mind, because he wanted this promise to be sacred, to her and her alone. _I won't leave you, even for an hour_.

He really meant it. Stefan was powerless to resist anything Elena wanted.

"I release you from all your promises."

Stefan stared. What? "But, Elena, I mean them," he explained. Did she think he was just repeating what she wanted just to please her? Did she not trust him, or did she think him too weak to keep his promises? But his inner self told him to trust her and wait; if Elena didn't trust him, no one ever would. Doubting her was ridiculous.

"I know. But when you do go, I don't want you to have the guilt of breaking them looming over you as well."

While her gesture overwhelmed him, making him marvel just how understanding and selfless she was, his subconscious shook its head. There it was again — him leaving her. _Not going to happen, lovely love._

He would have liked to argue with her till he convinced her that whatever happened, he would not be the one leaving, breaking it off, but he held his tongue. She had, after all, only just just woken into the consciousness of her true age, and was most likely confused. He just had to humor her this once. Not that it was a new thing _. She's confused, just let this go for now._

He wasn't sure he himself was any less confused than her, though. The day had opened so unexpectedly; he was still grasping at the strings.

At any rate, at least one of them was confused, that was sure. That must be why they had ceased all attempt at conversation when it was clearly the need of the hour, logically. That must be why he was groaning softly as Elena nipped his chin and brushed his lips with hers; that must be why he was pulling her closer and closer, until they were practically one and the same, and was running his tongue gently against her pale white throat while her breath hitched. And when his lengthened canines touched her soft skin, sending shivers down both of their spines, and Elena tilted her head back in invitation, nothing was confusing at all. Because he knew that this was what Elena wanted, and there was no doubt that this was what he wanted, too.

And his fangs drew blood, her sweet, divine blood, and time stretched around them, enclosing them in a soft envelope, and then stopped completely.

 _I've never wanted this so much. You,_ Stefan sent telepathically as they rose to heaven — that world of rose tinted fields and crystal skies, a world they could stay together, as one, but for only a few moments and yet an entire millennium. Elena spoke back to him, her voice clear and fresh, and there were no walls between them. This was Utopia. This was perfection.

But they couldn't last here too long, knowing that every second of this paradise they enjoyed, he was draining Elena's blood. And so with a tinge of regret which felt oddly stronger than usual, he pulled away. Elena was looking at him, eyes wide and shining, lips parted, and in her eyes, he could see her expression mirrored on his face.

"I needed this so much," Stefan murmured, feeling quite punch-drunk with ecstasy.

Elena didn't reply; she simply smiled. And that smile was worth a thousand words.

-o0o-

Stefan sat with an amused smile as he watched Elena call her friends. Their reactions were all simply priceless, but then, so had been his, when you came to think of it. There had been lots of laughing and crying on both ends of the phone, and there went half the afternoon. Afternoon, because neither Stefan and Elena had noticed when the morning drew by. Apparently kissing and cuddling and sharing blood was very preoccupying.

Elena put down the phone, breathing hard. The last call, with Matt, was finally over.

"Now that was tough," she sighed.

"He still loves you." Stefan knew that too well; he had seen the looks the boys Elena had once dated in school still gave her. Once you fell in love with Elena, you never fell out of it. And sometimes, when he saw the look of sadness and longing on Matt's face when Stefan and Elena were together, Stefan really felt bad for stealing her from him. Elena was a real heartbreaker when she wanted to be.

"He'd rather that I stayed a baby all my life?" Elena looked at him with narrowed eyes.

 _Of course he did, at least on some level._ Because the love that Elena gave to everyone could never be the same in her normal state, and it did not take a genius to realize that Matt had enjoyed bring kissed by Elena, even though it was only for identity's sake.

"Maybe he liked the way you used to say 'hello' and 'good-bye,'" Stefan teased with a smile, withholding these facts. They would make Elena feel guilty.

"Now you're teasing me." Elena quivered her chin.

"Never in this world," Stefan said softly, trying to look sincere. And then he grabbed her hand. "Come on—we're going shopping for a picnic and a car, too," he said, pulling her up.

But then Elena startled him out of his wits — by flying up so quickly that Stefan had to grab her by the waist to keep her from shooting toward the ceiling.

"I thought you had gravity!" Stefan yelped.

"So did I! What do I do?" Elena's expression was frantic, but it was also extremely amusing.

"Think heavy thoughts!"

"What if it doesn't work?"

Despite the situation, Stefan laughed. "We'll buy you an anchor!"

But that was unnecessary, because Elena came down on her own in a minute.

"What did you do?" Stefan asked her curiously as they set about packing for the picnic.

"Thought heavy thoughts, as you said."

"And they were?"

Elena looked at him gravely. "How I would feel if I lost you. It was extremely sobering."

-o0o-

Hand in hand, Elena and Stefan walked into the car showroom, the picnic basket in Stefan's car.

"What would Sir and Madam like?" The store owner asked with a smile.

"A Ferrari, please," Stefan said. "The best you have."

"Of course, Sir." The owner led them to a gleaming red Ferrari towards the side. As he busied himself in describing the car's qualities, Stefan turned to stare at Elena.

She was looking beautiful, radiant, as ever. Stefan looked at her golden hair, a beautiful shade of old gold, and her arms, pale white with a tinge of rose, her deep lapis lazuli eyes and her perfect mouth, and he knew he could never admire her enough. She was so wonderful, whether human or vampire or angel or spirit child, she was perfect. They had been through so much together, and yet here they were, still standing side by side, still very much in love. And Stefan knew that no matter what —

Elena turned to look at him and raised her eyebrows, smiling. "What are you staring at?"

Stefan shook his head with a smile, and held her hand tighter. "Nothing."

— no matter what came in the future, if she'd let him, he would love her on and on, for all eternity.

-The End-

* * *

 **And so it ends. Hope it was up to your expectations. Thanks to everyone who supported me through this. Love you!**


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